Auron blinked as the darkness peeled away, revealing a cold, metallic corridor that screamed, "Government nuthouse." A putrid stench clawed at his nostrils, twisting his guts into a knot. "Fantastic. Smells like zombies, regret, and redundancy," he muttered, trying not to gag.

  He looked down at the Watcher's Cover in his hand, its frayed edges and musty smell making it seem more like a joke than a gift.

  "Alright, let's see what you can do," he muttered, slipping the blindfold over his eyes.

  The world became a smear of shadows and faint outlines. Auron's confidence lasted exactly three steps before his face met the wall. "Oh yeah, this is going great," he grumbled, ripping the blindfold off and rubbing his forehead.

  He stared at his supposed gift, willing it to give him some clue about its purpose. Nothing. With a reluctant sigh, he tied it back on.

  "Let's try this again." This time, he stayed still, listening. The darkness felt less like blindness and more like a canvas. Subtle shifts in the air, faint vibrations underfoot, and that ever-present stench enveloped him. Slowly, he stepped forward again, trailing his hand along the wall for guidance.

  Three steps. Four. Then his foot caught on something, sending him stumbling.

  Cursing under his breath, he yanked the blindfold off again. The sterile corridor greeted him, just as featureless and confusing as before. Worse, somehow, he was back where he'd started.

  He glared at the blindfold. "Third time's the charm, right?" His voice was sharp, more out of frustration than conviction, but he tied it back on nonetheless.

  This time, he stood perfectly still. He let the silence settle around him and focused. The sharp smell in the air—it was stronger in one direction. Auron turned his head, honing in on the scent.

  Pulling the blindfold to his neck, he sniffed the air, confirming his suspicion. "Of course it's coming from there. Because why wouldn't it be the worst direction possible?"

  The scent grew stronger with each step, like an assault on his senses that made his stomach churn. As Auron turned a corner, his heart stuttered.

  A body lay sprawled across the tile floor.

  For a moment, he just stared, his mind struggling to reconcile the sight. Blood pooled around the figure, like a dark and viscous painting against the otherwise clean floors. The LiteNet training modules had never shown anything like this. This was raw, real, and gut-wrenching.

  “Oh, no. Nope. But Why?” Auron whispered, taking an involuntary step back.

  The uniform was torn and bloodied, the insignia unrecognizable. His stomach twisted as Thom’s face flashed unbidden in his mind. Auron clenched his fists, forcing the image away.

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  He crouched down, his hands trembling as he reached out to examine the figure. The fabric was damp and cold, like the body had been there for days. Auron recoiled, wiping his hand against his pants as if the touch burned.

  “Insanity,” he muttered.

  He stared down at the Watcher’s Cover, now more cryptic than ever. Could it help? Or would it just make things worse?

  Taking a deep breath, Auron tied it over his eyes once more. The world dissolved into shadowy shapes, but this time, something caught his attention—a faint, wispy glow swirling above the body, like mist caught in a breeze.

  “What the heck?” Auron muttered.

  He pulled the blindfold off, and the mist vanished, leaving only the grim tableau of the corridor. Heart pounding, Auron replaced the blindfold, and the wisps reappeared, floating down one of the hallways like a spectral trail.

  “Follow the creepy fog. Great plan, Auron,” he muttered. But his feet were already moving.

  Eventually, the wisps led Auron to a cavernous factory floor. The inactive machinery made the stillness strange. Towering production lines stretched into the shadows, their skeletal frameworks bearing the weight of countless dormant drones.

  Slipping the Watcher's Cover back on, Auron squinted through the worn fabric. The hazy outlines of his surroundings blurred, but the trail of wisps glowed unmistakably, converging on a heap of spare parts tucked between two massive conveyor belts. The light from the wisps pulsed gently, guiding him.

  "Figures I’d find a trash pile," Auron muttered, pulling the Watcher’s Cover to his neck. "Couldn't be something easy, like a glowing sword in a stone."

  He crouched near the pile and began scrounging around jagged edges and awkwardly shaped pieces. The metal clanged dully as he shifted it aside. At first, nothing stood out, but then—nestled deep within—he spotted a faint, blinking LED.

  Auron frowned. "Is that it? A budget nightlight?” He reached in carefully, extracting a small, matte-black device. Its smooth casing gave nothing away save for the blinking light. He turned it over, trying to make sense of it. "Okay, mysterious blinky thing, what's your deal?"

  "Ah, there it is!" a voice chirped behind him. Nearly tripping into the junk pile, Auron spun around, clutching the device like a weapon.

  The figure emerging from the shadows was all easy confidence and casual charm. Dressed in a plain tracksuit, the stranger seemed weirdly out of place in the eerie, industrial setting. His smile was disarmingly friendly—if you didn't look too hard at how sharp his gaze was.

  "I've been looking for that," the man said, nodding toward the device in Auron's hand.

  "Uh, hi?" Auron said, holding the device tighter. "And you are?"

  My designation is Systems Analysis Manager, or S.A.M. for short," the man replied. His smile widened.

  "S.A.M.?" Auron repeated, furrowing his brows. "What, they couldn't give you a real name?”

  S.A.M.'s grin didn't falter. "I like to think it adds charm. Now, that little gadget you've got there—It's a tracking beacon. The Unpredictable planted it when he snuck in. Sneaky little gizmo—it blocks local sensors, only detectable from a distance."

  Auron blinked, glancing at the device in his hand. "Okay, but why was it buried under, like, thirty pounds of spare crap? Did the Unpredictable get bored halfway through his evil plans?"

  "That's classified," S.A.M. said, lightly shrugging. "We found the operative trying to sneak it in. Defense systems handled him, but we kept the body for analysis, hoping to trace the beacon."

  "Right," Auron said. "And that didn't work out, so you just left the corpse lying around? For... ambiance?"

  "Efficiency," S.A.M. corrected as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Evidence is evidence, even if it's a little messy. But hey, no hard feelings."

  "No hard feelings? I didn't even know the guy!" Auron shot back, though he wasn't sure why he was arguing with an AI. He glanced at the beacon again, feeling his fingers tightening around it. "So, what happens now?"

  "Now, we secure it," S.A.M. said, extending his hand expectantly.